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Saturday, November 02, 2013

The Bali flight
from Perth was full of screaming children and parents trying to look cool and
be cool. Some made it. Other didn’t. Me? Can’t remember. I was so tired it was all
a blur. All that remains in memory are the screams.

Denpassar Airport
is new, very new. We got off the plane and gathered in a huge barn and lined up
in long queues that seemed to take a week to reach the immigration desk, where
I received a smile, which was nice.

Outside in
the flurry of names held up by eager taxi drivers I could see no name that
looked like mine, so I chose one at random and finished up in Kuta with a group
of chartered accountants attending an international conference on global money
transfers.

Sorry, I
made that up. What happened was someone up the back yelled at me because they
remembered me from last year and because they once had a farm in Denmark, just
down the road from Albany, and they knew me by face.

There were
other faces in the Ubud cluster and one of them belonged to Julian Burnside, so
I told him the name of my face and he told me the name of his. I reminded him
we were in a session together, People of Letters. He asked me if I knew what it
was about. I pretended I had no idea because he said he didn’t and I didn’t
want to embarrass him in front of the others. Later, I realised I had no idea
too, but the realisation helped me to discover the secret, to adapt, and make a
good fist of it. Something similar must have happened to Julian because his
fist turned out all right too.

That sorted
I got in a taxi with Ian Burnett and his delightful partner whose name sits in
my memory as a sound but I have no way of knowing how it looks as a word and so
will not write it as a word in order to save embarrassing both of us. Mainly
me. Ian wrote a book about the spice trade with all its murder, mayhem and
romance and called it Spice Islands.

The long
drive up the hill to Ubud with Wayan (first born man) was a lot of fun and full
of lively discussion, most of which I can no longer remember because of the
floating cloud in my brain and the constant battering from the lack of sleep drums
and the residual screams.

On arrival
in Ubud we drove around for what couldn’t have been a day but felt like it,
trying to find a way through the road works to Ian’s resort. I never saw him
again. But I did get to Honeymoon Guest House No 1, owned by the wondrous Janet
DeNeefe, Festival Founder and Director and the master of cool, Ketut Suardana,
Chair of the Mudra Swari Saraswati Foundation, the not-for-profit organisation behind
the festival.

And so it
all began, one mad rush through sumptuous feasting, thrilling panelling,
intense, lively and intimate conversations with people you know, people you
never met, then did, and loved in an instant, and people you have admired for
decades who suddenly appear in front of you with your book in their hand asking
for your signature and you want to refuse because they don’t seem to understand
that you are not worthy because of the image you hold of them in your mind’s
memory of fine and great people.

Exhausting.

Here are a
very small collection of highlights. The true and honest list is too long and I
would have to live it all again and not sleep again and my doctor has given me
instructions I must obey if I am to live longer than my father.

Catching
half of the David Vann – Legend of a
Suicide - and Jennifer Byrne conversation. David was funny, sad and behaved
like an American who has left his country for New Zealand, which he has. If he
talks in a place near you, go listen.

The Richard
Flanagan – The Narrow Road to the Deep
North - Michael Cathcart chat was engaging and insightful. All about war
and love and family and fragility.

Laki Laki
Yang Lucu was a session all about comedy and a pleasure to be sitting beside
Tom Doig, Morris Gleitzman and Ernest Prakasa and the hilarious Khairani
Barokka. If you look them all up you will notice they all carry credentials and
I’m pretty sure each and every one of them hit me with theirs at least once
during the discussion.

Jalan Jalan
meant a long walk on a wonky ankle but I met others worse off and the lush paddy
fields filled our souls with hope and when we arrived at Sari Organik we were tired
but ready for another sumptuous feast and travel tales and who better to yarn
with than two seasoned walkers and talkers, Jan Cornall and Claire Scobie.

The Second
Sex Debate was full of lies and cons and featured a stand up stoush between the
champion on my team, on any team, Olin Monteiro, and a woman in the
audience. It was a thrilling encounter and reminded us all that Indonesia is,
in practise, a democracy. Others on the team were Wayan Juniatha, who last year
took me to West Timor and left me there, Florence Williams, a rare American
presence, Tom Doig, an insane and funny New Zealander, and Clementine Ford, an
hilarious feminist from Adelaide. We were all chaired with charm and wit by
Chip Rolley, once director of the Sydney Writers’ Festival.

My personal highlight was a gripping session with Ben Quilty and
Augustinus Wibowo. Both men spoke with quiet intensity about their experiences
in Afghanistan. Ben won the 2011 Archibald with his painting of Margaret Olley
and was in Kandahar as the Official War Artist for the Australian War Memorial.
Augustinus is an Indonesian travel writer with a fascination for the Afghanistan
most of us know nothing of. Both men spoke from deep places about their experiences
but what struck me was the startling revelation that rape was an issue on both
sides of the security fence. Augustinus spoke about the local tradition of
Playboys, these are young men older men buy, or hire, or win over, for their
sexual peasure. Augustinus told of being sexually harassed as he travelled
through the country. When Ben arrived at the Kandahar base he was handed a “rape
whistle” by the camp commandant because a few days before a young Dutch soldier
had been raped by five American soldiers and that rape was a constant problem
at the base. I, like many others in the audience, sat dumb with horror in our
minds, hearts and souls.

Do you mind if I finish on a happy note? Thank you.

I had the pleasure of working with the fabulous People of Letters team –
Marieke Hardy and Michaela McGuire. These two wonders arrived in Ubud from Jakarta
where they had presented a Women of Letters. In Ubud they presented another mob
of Women with their notes and then us, the people. On the team and reading were
Julian Burnside, Cate Kennedy, Claire Bowditch, Ketut Yuliarsa and Morris Gleitzman.
Our instructions were to write to the thing which we wished we had written. And
we did. And the laughs came thick and fast. Eventually, it is possible, rumour
has it, these letters may appear in a book.

Now, to the conversational highlights. To be fair, there were many,
because if there is something I love, it is an intense and intimate conversation.
I won’t name names, except one, Bob Connolly, that great Australian documentary
film maker. Here’s how it happened.

I join a cluster at the Australian Embassy cocktail party. There is a
flurry and I am in the middle and running four conversations at the same time. Someone
says Bob Connolly would like you to sign your book for him, the one you wrote
about boarding school, Boy on a Wire.
I stop them and ask, who did you say? They repeat and I turn to see the great
man standing there with my book in his hands and I go down on a knee and refuse
to sign until he recognises that I have long admired his work and that I am but
a boy and naive and innocent in the wilderness of artistic endeavour. He takes
pity on me and helps me to my feet, saying he can feel my pain because his
knees aren’t too good either and then he introduces me to his partner Sophie Raymond
and it is she who has told me who he is as though I don’t know but I do and the
next day Bob and me huddle together like two old men who have known each other
forever and talk a talk that belongs to him and me.

Just in case you have forgotten Bob’s work: Mrs Carey’s Concert, Rats in
the Ranks, Facing the Music, First Contact, Black Harvest, Joe Leahy’s
Neighbours.

Did I mention where I stayed? I think I did, the Honeymoon
Guesthouse No 1. And, yes, it was a hot-bed of conversation. Will I name names?
No. But I remember them all. (I’m writer, I keep notes.)

Finally, the big question: Do I love the Ubud Writers’ and
Readers’ Festival? What a dumb question. It fills me, enriches me, I come home changed.footnote:Jon Doust's passage to Ubud was made possible by a grant from the Department of Culture and the Arts through it's Artflight program.

Thursday, October 24, 2013

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

There is no doubt I love a festival, in particular, a
writers/readers festival. My favourite? Too hard to call, but, if you were to
pressure me for a short list, on it would be two I have just attended: Big Sky Readers
and Writers Festivalin Geraldton and
Ubud Writers and Readers Festival in Bali.

Big
Sky had been denied me for some years due to other engagements, or perhaps
the lack of a book to talk about, whatever, I missed it. It is fine little
festival full of good cheer and camaraderie. For this year’s event I again
signed up for a quick flight over to the Abrolhos islands. And what better
company: Ailsa Piper, Rosemary Sayer, Toni Jordan, Brenton McKenna, Mitch
Becker, Di Wolfer.

Malcolm, Ailsa,
Diane, The Captain, Toni and Sue.

On the way we flew through a rainbow.

And when we got there, such beauty.

One man, Brenton McKenna, is a brilliant graphic novelist, the other is an idiot.

Wednesday, October 09, 2013

Jon Doust is Appearing In

How
often have you said, or heard someone say, 'I could never write that
story. It would upset too many people'? Jon Doust has written two novels
based on his life & the lives of people around him & is
currently finishing a third. In Tweaking the Truth, he shows
how to start with truths that can’t be told, then tweak & twist them
to create a work of fiction that can sometimes reveal deeper truths.
Half-day Event

In
a world of the short & swift, of texts & Twitter, there's
something special about a carefully composed letter. In homage to this
most civilised of activities. From sellout shows across Australia &
the US – & their very first Indonesian tour – we welcome Marieke
Hardy & Michaela McGuire of Women of Letters. In this special event,
Marieke & Michaela invite you to join them for an intimate
afternoon with a handpicked selection of some of the Festival's
wonderful women & men of letters. With a cocktail in your hand &
the stunning sunset from Indus in front of you, listen as these
remarkable people share their letters.

Come
Jalan Jalan with some of the Festival's adventurous storytellers &
intrepid travellers. Jalan Jalan means ‘to wander’ in Indonesian &
this event is now an annual UWRF tradition. Join Claire Scobie, Jan
Cornall & Jon Doust as they take you through the heart of Ubud,
& then on a gentle stroll through the rice paddies as you head to
the gorgeous Sari Organik. Over a delicious organic brunch & while
looking out over Ubud’s stunning rice terraces you’ll hear stories from
both near & far.

'It
would be folly to expect that women will ever dominate or even approach
equal representation in a large number of areas simply because their
aptitudes, abilities & interests are different for physiological
reasons.’ – Tony Abbott (1978). The quote may be old, but in 2013 have
beliefs really changed?

Please
find enclosed copies of my parking ticket of 24/5/2013, with accompanying parking
fine received on the same day, while my Subaru B 451 was parked behind the
Windsor Hotel, South Perth.

It
is, of course, of little interest to you in Parking Enforcement that I often
visit this South Perth precinct when in the city. It is one of my favourite
spots and on this occasion I did as I have always done, walked along the
foreshore with a friend, chatting, going over our business relationship,
discussing the odd dilemma, then we drank coffee, ate small morsels and
finished off with a sorbet at the ice-cream shop. All in all, a solid and
constructive meeting in a delightful setting.

In
all my years of business meetings in this part of glorious South Perth, I have
never once received a parking ticket. Until now. And you can imagine my irritation,
because I was just around the corner at the time the ticket was slapped on my
windscreen and as soon as I discovered the slim slip of incrimination and ridicule,
my first thought was: Where the hell is that guy? He can’t be far. He’s made a
mistake. It can’t be true. Not me, a parking fine, never. But, he was nowhere
to be seen. (I assumed he was a man and I apologise for any perceived sexism in
my response.)

Then
I looked closely at the ticket and the notice. Oh, yes, Dear Parking
Enforcement Servicer, those two tiny pieces of paper told me a story that made
a tiny part of my brain sing a small song.

Just
take a look at this:

Not
sure if you can tell from the big picture, so let’s take a closer look:

Note the expiry time.

Now note the breach time.

Indeed,
the breach time is some time before the expiry time. Now this could be
explained by the failing eyesight of the parking enforcement officer, or his
inability to see beyond the immediate. My guess: His eyes brush the dashboard
and fail to pick up the ticket lying just off the dashboard in front of the
steering wheel. Let me explain with a photograph, which I took with the two
slips in position on the car’s dash.

There
you have it. Let’s not be too hard on the officer. I’m sure his heart and iPad are
in the right place.

Given
I have sent a copy of this letter to the City, I would now like to wish you
both an excellent winter.

And,
South Perth, may you and your City continue to shine,

Jon
Doust

A
regular visitor

With
a promise never to leave his car unticketed

And
to ensure a more central placement in the future.

A response from the aforementioned Parking Enforcement Services was received. This fearsome body sent me a letter saying my appeal had been rejected, no reason given, but then it generously supplied me with a list of unacceptable reasons.

Answers: Jon Doust

3
- In Madison, Wisconsin, in 1984, I entered the Funniest Person in
America Competition and came last.

What
is your pet hate?

Pets.

What
is your favourite book? And why?

The book I am writing
now. Always the one I am writing now. They consume me, take over my life. I
live in them. Almost. Every so often I have to leave the house to buy food. Or
did you mean written by another? Too many favourites, but there is one I have
read more often than any other - Siddhartha, by Hermann Hesse. It is the tale
of a journey to self discovery, full of explorations from imposed religion,
through hedonism to a personal sense of spirituality.

What
do you consider your greatest achievement? (It can be professional or personal,
or both!)

Personal? Staying alive
long enough to help create a family that produced a sober, healthy, funny, decent
and moral young man.

Professional? Writing
books that are not cathartic, that hurt me, but continuing to write them because
the stories are more important than any personal grief.

What
do you value in an effective piece of writing?

Courage and
originality.

What
do you do when you have writer’s block?

Keep writing. Never
stop. Write about the lawn, the sun, the boy sitting next to you, never stop.
(As a consequence, I never get it.)

What
advice would you give to any aspiring young writers battling to get published
within the wider world?

Seek other planets.
Okay, sorry, seriously, never give up. If you get a rejection, re-work the
work. If you get an acceptance, re-work the work. Everything can be
better.Never take a compliment sitting
down. In fact, don’t take anything sitting down. Sitting is bad for your
posture.

What
do you think are the main influences on your writing style?

My life in a small town
farming family, where men spoke hard and sharp and most of the women too. My
grandfather, who was a farmer, story teller and journalist. My early reading:
adventure tales – Treasure Island, Huckleberry Finn, Tom Sawyer. And later: Ernest Hemmingway, Hermann Hesse, JD Salinger.

Is
there an over-arching message or theme that you try to project through your
different works?

Still working on it.
Life is mad, but it doesn’t have to make you crazy? Be aware of the dangers of
obsessiveness, of over-indulgence, of dgoma. Look after those who are not as fortunate as
you. Revenge can be sweet, although nasty.

Was
there a definitive turning point in your career that led you to pursue writing?

I always wanted to
write, from about thirteen. But I hid all my writing. Then I met a man over
coffee. His name was Ken Spillman. He asked me to help him write a children’s
book. I said yes. Everything changed.

What
is your favourite part of being a writer? (Usually people tell me that it’s
great to be paid for staying at home in their PJs!)

I don’t have pjs. But
it is good not having a job. It’s for the best, for everyone. That’s one more
job available for someone who needs one and, besides, I’m not good in a
workplace. I’m disruptive. I tend to want to make work fun. Not
encouraged.Then there’s talking. I am a
natural talker. The writing I love more than anything, I am driven to do it,
but the talking comes natural.

Some
authors say they turned to writing because they needed to escape into another
world within their mind, some do it for the pleasure of publishing to the
masses and some say that writing is inspired purely because they have a story
to tell. What is your personal motivation for writing? (Such a small question
for such a big answer!)

I have to tell stories.
It’s all I can do. I can’t fix a car, or mend a fence, or cure ingrown
toenails. But I can pretend I can. Then there’s my head. My wife says I have a
memory like an elephant, without the body, for which she is thankful. My head
is full, and in order to ease its strain, I have to get stuff out, or, I’m
sure, it will explode. And I am an idealist. The world upsets me, daily - I see
things and have things to say about those things.

And
for the benefit of all the English teachers out there, why is a love of books
so crucial for students?

You cannot do
everything, be everything, understand everything, know everything, but you can
read everything. No, you can’t, but you can nurture your imagination, stimulate
your senses, foster your understanding.

If
there was one thing you could change about the way society operates today, what
would it be? Why?

I would make it
mandatory for everyone to have their DNA analysed to determine their ethnic
origins, then they would realise we all came out of Africa and there is no such
thing as purity in race. Indeed, race is a myth. Why? Just for fun.

Do
you feel that the use of technology within the younger generation is having a
negative or positive impact upon literacy? (Please elaborate on your opinions
as to why and what we can do about it if applicable)

I thnk ther is 2 much
txting.2 many people don’t complt words or sentces any ...
In school I would create a class dedicated to the long drawn out sentence and
let students go on and on and on and on and ...

Would
you rather fight one horse sized duck or one hundred duck sized horses?

I would prefer 100
horse sized ducks. As they ran at me I’d climb a tree and do my geese calls.
Ducks hate geese. There would be chaos. They’d run into each other, fall over,
and there’d be duck for dinner for a year.